In his mind, he saw her body over and over again, even remembering the mole on her torso and a tiny one on the back of her neck. He would kiss every inch of skin, explore every curve and crevice.
That is, if she would let him.
She said she needed time. What did that mean? Was it a day? A week? A month—God’s blood, it better not be that long. Patience was a skill he avoided. There were too many pleasures in life to dilly-dally. Abstinence was for monks, not healthy, attractive men in their prime.
So here he was, waiting. She’d promised to come to him for dinner. In anticipation of tonight’s festivities, he’d given himself a fast towel bath and put on the nicer of the two dressing gowns he had. He’d begged Mrs. Norris for a proper dinner jacket and trousers, but the old woman said he needed to rest his injuries and refused to oblige him.
Avery did not argue with Mrs. Norris, but did give him a comb, a nice crisp shirt, cravat, and a bit of cologne.
He was tying his cravat when there was a knock at the door.
“You may enter.”
Violet, followed by Mrs. Norris and Sally, came in with trays of food. He watched Sally lay out a thick white tablecloth over the old walnut table. While it was certainly an improvement, it did not cover the gnawed leg.
Violet wore a pale yellow gown adorned with sparkling gold dots. His eyes skimmed over the puff sleeves to the generous swell of her bosom—which was well displayed—and he was even more pleased when she turned and he could see the elegant curve of her back. The dress split to form a long V, leaving her back mostly open.
Though she was fully dressed, she might as well be naked. He must send a letter of praise to her dressmaker. As necklines got lower, gentlemen looked forward to dinner and opera and all the social niceties women required of them.
He’d gladly give his wife a little more purse money if she looked like that.
What? What the hell had just gone through his mind? Kit didn’t have a wife, nor did he want one.
Yet, he could imagine Violet coming to his bed every night. He could imagine sitting across from her at a long table and ignoring everyone else present. He could imagine sitting with her at the opera and admiring a view that had nothing to do with the actors on stage.
“I hope you are hungry.” She smiled at him as the servants laid out an elaborate spread for them.
A footman lifted a silver lid, revealing roasted mutton with carrots and potatoes. Kit could smell the rosemary. His mouth salivated as each dish was uncovered.
The smell of the fresh baked bread made his stomach squeeze. He’d hardly eaten this morning because Violet hadn’t come to breakfast with him. She more than made up for it now, first with a gown that displayed almost every curve he longed to see and now with savory meats and vegetables and a delicious-looking soup.
He waited until the footman had sliced the meats and served up the bowls of broth to speak.
“You look lovely, Violet.”
“Thank you, Kit.”
As he sipped his soup, he watched her. He noted each rise and fall of her bosom, noted the way she held her spoon to her lips. Mmmmmm. What he wouldn’t give to sample her mouth again.
She blushed and glanced at her staff then looked down at her soup. This wouldn’t do. Violet was back to the shy female he met weeks ago. He preferred her as she was earlier, bold and carefree. Wicked to the core.
“Would you please excuse us?” he said to Sally and the others. One by one, they filed out of the room.
Violet’s eyes went wide. “Why did you do that?”
“So that I could do this.” He set down his tray and climbed down from the bed to take her hand and kiss it, first going up her fingers then turning to kiss the inside of her wrist.
“We are having dinner!” With another blush, she glanced away.
“Where is my wicked widow?” he asked. “I quite like her.”
Her eyes turned green again and he decided this was his favorite shade of hazel.
“I already shamed myself by staying with you in the bright light of day. At least we could wait until everyone is abed.”
He wanted her now. “You will learn that I am not good at waiting.”
She bit her lip and pulled her arm back. “You shall have to learn.”
“It is not as if they are ignorant.”
“Just because I chose to…be intimate with you does not mean I need to flaunt it about like dinner theater. What I choose to do with you is my affair, but I will not give them more gossip than we have already. I am the lady of this house. I will behave as such.”
He walked over to her chair and turned her so that he could place his arms on either side. “You are the lady of this house, but this room is mine. When you walk through that door, you leave all of that behind you.”
“Of all of the arrogant and presumptuous things—”
“Would you have me be some meek invalid led around by the apron strings of his nurse?”
“No.”
He leaned in close and gave her a dark stare. She should know he would not take orders from her.
“Kit,” she said, pushing him away and jumping out of her chair. “You may well be lord of your own province somewhere, but here in this house, I am queen. You are here at my discretion, so it does not matter your title or station. You will treat me as your equal, not as your courtesan.”
The fire in her eyes should have made him back down. It was as good as a slap in the face. Instead of being angry or rebuked, he was glad. This was the woman he adored. The one who had disappeared moments ago.
She continued. “I am not your mistress, Kit.”
Hmmmm. The thought had not entered his mind before now. Would she consider it? If he asked her, would she become his mistress? Or, would she part ways with him once she found out the truth about his identity?
Another woman would expect him to marry her. Somehow, he could not imagine Violet doing so. Obviously, she had enough money to support herself well. She had at least eight servants by his guess and a fine country home, though a little isolated. While she was no countess, she lived very comfortably.
What benefit would there be to her? She had her freedom now. Still, if she were his mistress, he could see her whenever he pleased. He could shower her with gifts and take her on a tour of the Continent. Maybe even take her to the Americas. And when she tired of him—or he of her—they could part as friends.
If she were his wife, she would have that and more. But unlike most of the women he’d met, she did not covet being a marchioness. He’d overheard Miriam and Sally one day and knew that Violet had turned down the proposal of an earl over a year ago. If she were hungry for a title, she would have taken it.
He could ask her to be his mistress. She’d brought it up. But as he looked in her eyes, the words died before they could ever be spoken. She was too fierce and independent to become his chatelaine. The thing he loved about her was that independence, the innate strength and capability that were as natural to her as breathing.
She was not Isabella. She was not his mother or his aunt. Violet was something else altogether.
“I apologize,” he said, gently taking her elbow and gesturing for her to sit. “Let us resume dinner and I will try to behave in a civilized fashion.” He winked at her. “I make no promises after dessert.”
“You are incorrigible.”
* * * *
Violet took her seat and waited for him to go back to his place on the bed. It was odd to sit at dinner this way, with Kit’s long legs draped across the bed and him in clothes no woman should see save his wife and his mother. She reminded herself that they’d done this before, many times.
It felt different now. Maybe it was knowing the sensation of his hands on her body, the pleasure of them in her sex. She shifted in the hard chair, pretending that she didn’t feel the stirring in her belly, which had little to do with the savory food displayed before them.
Giving in now would set a precedent and she could not allow him to
have the upper hand. Kit expected everyone in his presence to acquiesce to his commands. Did it even occur to him that anyone would disobey? She doubted it.
Violet knew she was in too deep, thrust in the middle of a vast ocean with no boat and no paddle. She clung to the tiny raft of her control. It was all that could save her from drowning.
The truth was, she wanted to yield. She wanted to let him conquer her body in any and every fashion he could contrive. But like him, she had her pride. Though it was her fear that drove her rather than protecting her vanity.
If she gave all to him, what would be left for her once he departed? Her heart and body already were lost, what else would surrender along with them? Her soul?
“You are far too quiet, Mrs. Laurens.”
Her head snapped up. He had not called her that in a very long time. “Hmmm?”
“You have barely touched your soup and your mind is preoccupied. Would you like to tell me what troubles you?”
No. She would not. “Next month is Christmas. With so much going on, I had not even thought about it. We shall have to get a goose and pick out garlands and mistletoe. We shall need to cut down a tree for the Yule log.”
“That is not what you were thinking about. Come here, Violet.”
It was not a request and she did not have the energy to fight him. She set her napkin on the table and walked over to the bed.
He made space next to him and patted the bed. “Sit down.”
Warmth seeped into her from the spot where he’d been lying. The urge to lean into him and drink up the heat from his body was almost too hard to resist. She swayed and then pulled back.
Kit made the decision for her and pulled her against him. So close that she could smell the cologne he wore. She’d been too distracted to notice it before. It reminded her of a dark forest, woody and strong. Yet it drew her in so that she snuggled closer.
“You are full of contradictions,” he said, kissing her crown. “One minute you are sensible and demure, the next you spark like a raging fire, and then you’re soft and pliant like a puddle.”
She was too comfortable in his arms to do anything but let him hold her. What was wrong with her today? She’d slept with a man she’d only known for weeks and in the broad light of day. She’d taunted him and teased him then let him spank her! Now, here she was, behaving like a helpless child.
What was it about him that raised all her defenses, then ravaged them to pieces?
“Your mind spins like the wheel of a phaeton at top speed. Do not think so much, darling. Your head will combust.”
A half-chuckle was all that she could manage. Something was breaking inside of her and she did not know what it was. Where was her strength? The resolve she’d had only moments ago?
“I am fine now.” She had to be. Violet took a deep breath and returned to a sitting position.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Surely I am just famished. Once I take a few bites, all will be well.”
To her surprise, he spooned up the soup and gripped her chin so that he could pour the now tepid liquid into her mouth.
“That is not necessary. I can go to my own plate.”
His fingers were soft as he pulled her mouth open again. “You said you needed food. I am giving it to you.” Another spoonful of liquid poured down her mouth.
When was the last time someone had ministered to her? Violet was always the one who cared for the sick. The last time she remembered someone doing this for her was Avery, years ago.
“Would you like a taste of the mutton?” Kit asked. “Or more soup?”
“Soup.”
He repeated the process, but when a little trickle spilled at the corner of her mouth, he kissed her. It was firm, but without command, and it ended a moment after it began.
Another spoonful appeared and she let him feed her, though her gaze kept venturing back to his lips.
“If you keep watching me that way, I shall forget about my promise to behave.”
“Who told you to behave?” She smiled.
The look in his eyes made her insides turn to butter. “You.”
Should she do what she wanted and forget about the servants outside this room, forget about her responsibilities and take what he offered? Or should she show him that her resolve was still strong, despite her momentary lapse in sanity?
“You tempt me far more than the devil could,” she whispered.
He traced a finger along her cheek. “And you burn hotter than the pits of hell.” He put her hand on his chest. “I should like to be scorched.”
“Our dinner is getting cold.”
“One touch from you will warm it up.”
“Another kiss and then we eat. After that…” Her seductive voice trailed off.
“You will set my body on fire.”
Violet grinned sheepishly. “Something like that.”
She tested him. First with her words, then with every sumptuous bite of food. Watching her take pleasure in every morsel, every sip only made him envious. He would love to be devoured by her mouth, consumed by her touch.
Violet enchanted him, and it was more than her delicate face. She always had a witty remark, a sensuous look, a tart challenge for him. He could not get enough of her.
He wanted to savor every moment with her. Each day he felt stronger and more of his memory returned. The time was coming when he’d have to leave Welbury Park. He wanted to delay it for as long as possible. The thought of leaving Violet was a sharp knife at his throat.
As soon as he finished his last bite, he set down his tray and threw off the blankets. Violet’s wild eyes watched him and he could see her long fingers gripping the table.
“Dessert,” he said.
“Bread pudding?”
Vulgar replies raced through his mind, but he did not voice them aloud. “No.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”
Something about her arm wrapped in his made him feel powerful. It wasn’t that she was weak and needed him to protect her. It was that she was strong, but she yielded to him anyway.
“Kiss me,” he said after he sat her on the bed. He stood between her legs, leaning against the mattress.
There was the rustle of fabric as she untied his dressing gown. She removed his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers. Then her lips were on his abdomen, soft and hot.
His body clenched in response. Long, delicate fingers tore at his clothes, yanking them down and freeing his growing erection. She circled a finger around his girth, spiraling it from the base to the head. He let out a hiss.
Violet leaned in close and caressed her cheek over his prick and licked the tip before stroking her cheek along the other side. When she swallowed him whole, he had to grip the bedpost to keep hold of his control.
She loved him with her tongue, kissing and sucking him as her fingers squeezed the base of his cock. There was no trembling, no hesitation, no dissembling. Most ladies required a bit of coaxing and cajoling to suck a man like this. Not Violet.
He could come like this. He could pull her hair and fuck her mouth the way he wanted to fuck her pussy. But there was so much more that he wanted from Violet than a willing mouth. Her body was an uncharted territory and he wanted to learn every river, every valley. Earlier, he’d had a taste of her pleasure, but now he wanted to drown in it.
“Lie down on the bed.”
She ignored him, still kissing and stroking him. Her fingers stroked his balls, which were sore and tight.
“I said, lie down, Violet.”
Her eyes flew open and a little moan signaled her protest.
Sliding his hand into her hair, he pulled hard until she opened her mouth. The sight of her wide mouth around his throbbing erection made him twitch. She was too appetizing, too alluring for her own good.
“Scoot back on the bed and spread your legs for me.”
There was fire in her eyes as they shifted from green to yellow. “I cannot move without your hand tearing out my hair.”
“You have a smart mouth.”
“Do I?” she asked, fingering his cock again. “If it was so clever, why did you pull away?”
“Because when I fuck you, I want you to feel it everywhere, not just your saucy lips.”
If he’d expected her to flinch at his foul language, he was mistaken. She merely resumed fondling his sac, kneading him so well he had to hold the bed post again.
“Do you ever follow instructions?” The words were barely out of his mouth when he realized he must have loosened his grip on her hair because the next thing he knew, her mouth was on his balls, her tongue following the trail her fingers had left.
“You will kill me,” he said. Absently, his fingers stroked her neck. “That is, if I don’t kill you first for your insolence.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she murmured. She kissed her way to the underside of his cock, then licked the length, before sucking the head again.
“You think I do not mean it?”
She looked up at him. “I believe you do. But, maybe, sir, just maybe, I do not care.” Her fingers teased his prick and he jerked into her hand. “If I should die, I think this would be the best way to go.”
“There are a few other things I should like to do before meeting my maker.”
When she raised her eyebrows, he knew he had her. “Such as?”
“Do as I instructed you and maybe I will show you what they are.”
He watched her face as she deliberated. The discreet way she moistened her lips and bit down made him want to kiss her. Though his prick was aching, he waited, forcing his breathing to remain even and relaxed. She needed to trust his authority.
“Very well, my lord,” she whispered. Her breasts bounced as she slid back on the bed. When she parted her legs, she lifted the hem of her dress and he watched, enthralled, as the gilded fabric and petticoats skimmed their way up her creamy thighs.
“Are you sure you are not a courtesan?” he asked, placing his hands on her knees and spreading her legs farther open. “Or an actress in the theatre? You certainly know how to put yourself on display.”
He kissed her right thigh, then trailed kisses down her calf. With care, he pulled off her silken slippers and stockings and lifted her leg to kiss her ankle. The tender lick along the bone made her sigh and sink into the mattress. Kit massaged her foot for a few minutes before switching to kiss her other leg. He repeated the same process, rubbing her ankle and kissing and licking it before massaging the heel and arch of her foot.
A Marquess for Christmas Page 10
